


Flying Colours

by oceanniqht



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: ACoTaR Modern AU, Alternate Universe - A Court of Thorns and Roses Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Feyre Archeron, Human Feyre Archeron, Plot Twists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:21:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27834457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceanniqht/pseuds/oceanniqht
Summary: ACOTAR Modern AU where Feyre is an artist and Ianthe is her neighbour and also a gymnast for no reason.
Kudos: 3





	Flying Colours

Feyre stared at her newest masterpiece, a vibrant acrylic painting of a sunset. Tiny flaws jumped out at her here and there, but she dismissed them for now. Soft orange light beamed in through her open window. Feyre looked outside to find the sun slowing sinking. She had been holed up in her bedroom painting for hours now. The entire day had passed, and she hadn’t even realized. A shadow moved in the corner of her eye. She looked up just in time to meet her neighbor’s eyes through their close-set parallel windows. Ianthe looked as annoyed to see Feyre as Feyre was to see Ianthe. Ianthe shot her a look full of contempt and went back to practicing her ribbon routine for the gymnastics competition she would be competing in soon. The distance between their two windows was short, and Feyre was tempted to jump across and strangle Ianthe with her own ribbon. Feyre’s stomach grumbled so loud Ianthe could’ve heard it through the open windows, so she finally gave in and went downstair to find food instead of attempting murder. 

Feyre returned to her room half an hour later. She was greeted with a room splattered with brightly coloured paint. Pale pink swatches covered the white bed sheets. Blue and purple paint trickled down from a large blotch on the wall. Feyre thought it looked like the sky had exploded in her room. Horror and confusion washed over her. Feyre’s eyes fell on her canvas, now on the floor. What used to be a pretty landscape of the ocean at sunset was now a chaotic mess of sunset themed paint, as if someone had reached out with their hands and smeared everything together. A loud thump sounded from under her window, but when she looked outside, nothing caught her eye in the pale moonlight. Feyre looked up to see Ianthe still practicing her ribbon. Smudges of dark purple stained Ianthe’s white shirt. No way, Feyre thought, could Ianthe have been the one to ruin her painting. After all she was just a gymnast who had no regard for Feyre’s life, other than to make it absolute living hell. A skilled gymnast who… Well, now that Feyre thought about it, Ianthe certainly possessed the physical abilities required to climb through a window on the second floor and back out again in half an hour. And Ianthe disliked her enough – claiming that Feyre had been ruining her life ever since she moved here – to go out of her way and ruin Feyre’s in return. Rage boiled within her. It all made perfect sense now. She looked out her window, but Ianthe was no longer in sight. Feyre snatched her coat and stormed out of her house.

The night air was crisp outside. Leaves crunched under her feet as Feyre stomped angrily towards her neighbor’s doorstep, ready to fling all sorts of accusations her way. Her hand paused in mid-air, poised to knock aggressively on Ianthe’s door, at the soft rustling sound near the bushes. Feyre stopped dead. Mustering enough courage, she slowly walked away from Ianthe’s doorstep and towards the sound. The sweet scent of jasmine filled the air. Under the bush, a small colourful bird flailed, struggling to get to its feet. Rich shades of blue and yellow feathers gleamed in the shadows. Its right wing twitched, while the other beat rapidly in a poor attempt to take flight. She reached out and cradled the bird gently in her hands, careful not to damage it further. Her hands met feathers soft and…wet? Surprise coursed through her. Had it rained recently? Feyre turned around so her shadow did not fall on the bird and studied it closely in the dim moonlight. She withdrew her fingers and found them covered in paint. Feyre looked up and realized she was standing directly under her window. Carrying the bird back to her house and placing it lightly on the bed, Feyre turned on the lights in her room. In the window opposite hers, Ianthe was back in her room, clutching a handful of mulberries that stained her fingertips the same shade of purple on her shirt. Feyre scanned her room. Sure enough, little black feathers glistened in puddles of sky-blue and peach coloured paint.


End file.
